


push

by tessykins



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Episode Related, Hand Jobs, M/M, Pirate Husbands, mild manipulation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2016-02-18
Packaged: 2018-05-21 12:20:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6051409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tessykins/pseuds/tessykins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"God above, you infuriate me," Flint gritted out. </p>
<p>"And you <i>need</i> me," Silver smirked. Flint growled and his fists clenched. Silver appreciated the sentiment. He’d become all too familiar with need ever since he’d joined this god-forsaken crew.</p>
            </blockquote>





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**Author's Note:**

> Written after 3x03, but fits right into the continuity of 3x04. Because that scene on the beach was a little, um...afterglow-y.
> 
> This fic features the author's anxious but hopefully triumphant return to fandom, because apparently tandem shark-harpooning is my biggest kink. Not beta-read, so constructive criticism is very welcome.

The water felt better than anything Silver had ever felt. Better than sex, better than comfort, better than the thrill of a lie paying off. He drank and drank from the cool, clear stream and it felt like every tiny part of him was filling, replenishing.

He filled his hands with water and splashed it over his head, gasping. He’d felt like dried jerky for so long he’d almost forgotten what it was like to be cool and gloriously wet. Silver was pondering stripping naked and just dunking himself in the water when someone cleared their throat behind him. Silver looked up at Flint and wished--for not the first time--that he was the sort of man who carried a weapon at all times.

“Billy sent me to find you,” Flint said uncomfortably. He looked like a young boy sent on a loathsome errand by his mother. 

Silver laughed and stood, his leg trembling under him. The boot was uncomfortably dry and he’d have to take a moment to wash the wound later. “I do believe Billy would have us mend our fences.”

“Billy is an optimist, who believes in the best of both of us,” Flint grunted.

“And you don't believe?” Silver suspected he knew the answer to that, but it was always gratifying to make the captain voice his own turmoil.

Flint rolled his shoulders back. His eyes flicked over Silver, the water dripping from his hair to his neck. “I believe that you are a treacherous snake and I am a hardened murderer. There’s not much good to found there.” 

“If snakes and murderers we be, that is not all we are. Not everything I've said to you had been a lie.”

“Truly? I believe that every word out of your mouth advances your agenda.” 

It was true, Silver knew, but not the complete truth. “Those words advance your agenda, too. Words can be just as effective weapons as swords.” He grinned, hoping to lighten the moment, and perhaps just to annoy Flint a little. “They’ve worked enough times on you.”

Flint clenched his fists and stepped into Silver’s space. “I would not be so quick to make light, were I you. I haven’t killed you for the loss of the Urca, but I haven’t forgotten your betrayal, either. Walk softly, Silver.” And Silver was acutely aware of the threat between them.

But Silver had had quite enough of Flint walking over him without protest. “But you will forgive me, once you get over yourself. Once you realize that you still have need of me. You’re a practical man, Flint. And you’re a man who needs a partner, someone to check you when you go astray.”

Flint laughed derisively. “And you think you should be that partner?”

“I don't see anyone else stepping up for the task. It seems to have an exceptionally high death rate.”

Sheer rage and darkest sorrow flashed across Flint’s face, quickly suppressed. “God above, you infuriate me,” Flint gritted out. 

“And you _need_ me,” Silver smirked. Flint growled and his fists clenched. Silver appreciated the sentiment. He’d become all too familiar with need ever since he’d joined this god-forsaken crew. 

“You need me, too,” Flint snarled.

Silver glared up at Flint, the granite sweep of his cheekbones, the storm-tossed grey of his eyes. In that moment, Silver hated him. It was true, God, it was too true. Somehow, some way, he had allowed Flint to become the center of his world. Flint had given him a place where he mattered and now Silver need that power, that purpose, more than anything he’d ever needed in his life, even gold. They were all the other had. It was maddening, it was everything.

Flint’s lip curled. “No clever reply, Silver? I must say I’m disappointed.”

Silver drew himself together. There was no way he could let Flint have the last word. “Do you need a reply? Because I must say, That’s the least romantic declaration of love I’ve ever heard. If this is how you've wooed your past lovers, no wonder you’ve only had the one--”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Flint barked, “and you will not speak on it.” He grabbed Silver by the collar and slammed him against the nearest tree. Silver grunted, back scraping on the rough bark. He stumbled, knee nearly giving under him as his boot caught on the roots. He clutched at Flint’s arms for balance and glared. He was weak, and he hated that Flint could use it against him. 

Flint smirked, that tiny curl of the lip when he was pleased to play the villain. Silver wanted to wipe it off his face. There was a moment, poised on the knife edge of violence, when Silver wasn’t really sure what would happen. Then Flint’s gaze feel dark and heavy to his mouth, and the breath stopped in Silver’s chest. He knew what Flint wanted and would never reach for. This was the in he needed, the crowbar he could use to pry Flint open. And this was one thing he wouldn’t let Flint decide. He reached up and grabbed at Flint, clawing at the back of his head. It wasn’t a kiss, it was a war. 

Flint kissed like an invasion, hard and fast and with an absolute certainty of victory. Silver shoved back, nipped and sucked at his lips; he would no longer be swept along by the captain’s will. 

Flint’s hands were hard and rough, wrapping around Silver’s back and crushing them together. Silver squirmed in his arms, shoving back. He hoped Flint skinned those hands on the fucking tree.

Silver dragged the ragged ends of his nails down the back of Flint’s neck, reveling in the shivers that rippled over his skin. Flint knocked him back, tangling Silver’s curls around his fingers. He set his teeth to Silver’s neck, scoring raw red lines on his skin. Silver ground his hips up, Flint slipping between his thighs. He pushed against him, and Silver could feel an answering hardness against his own. Hot bright friction and it shot down Silver’s spine like a bolt of lightning.

Fuck, but this would probably turn out to be a terrible idea. One of the worst Silver had ever had. People who loved Flint ended up dead. But he was right there, hard and overwhelming and willing to be touched; it was impossible for Silver to keep his covetous, opportunistic hands off him. 

Silver tugged open Flint’s shirt, hands clumsy and shaking with stupid need. Flint’s skin was wind-roughened, well-scarred under his fingertips. The touch was softer than he meant it to be. Flint chuckled softly. He fingered the low dip of Silver’s shirt, tugged it aside as he nipped and bit at Silver’s neck. They were hard, open-mouthed kisses. Flint scraped his beard over Silver’s chest and neck, burning and tickling in equal portions. Silver gasped and tried not to shake apart.

Flint kissed Silver again, mouth hot and open, tongue slipping along the seam of his lips. Hungry kisses that left his lips bruised and his head spinning. It wasn’t rough like Silver would expect from Flint, more all-encompassing. It was like standing at the heart of a storm, all roar and violence that never touched him. Flint tugged at the waist of Silver’s pant, fingertips dipping across hidden skin. Silver clenched his hands in the back of Flint’s shirt and held on.

Flint tugged free the laces of Silver’s trousers, slow and intent. Flint slid his hands inside, insinuating like a suggestion. He took Silver in his hand, a firm grip just right to light his body up with sparks. Flint stroked up and down, rough callouses catching on his foreskin. Silver grasped Flint’s wrist, the other hand cluching at his shoulder, desperate for balance. Flint thumbed gently at the head, rolled his balls in his other hand. The touches were slow, molasses smooth with desire. Jesus, Flint touched him like he wanted to be doing nothing else.

“You’ve done this before,” Silver exhaled shakily.

Flint smiled, a rueful lift to his lips. “Of course. Haven't you?”

Flint’s fingers danced along his length and Silver threw his head back, eyes closed, overwhelmed. Yes, he’d done this before, fumbling encounters in the dark, when the nights had been too long and no other option had presented itself. Certainly nothing with this level of finesse, this--this _desire_. “Not, I think, the way you've done it.”

There was a flicker of grave sadness in the captain’s eyes like movement in the depths and Silver wanted to chase it, wanted to know it, wanted to taste that knowledge between his teeth. “No,” Flint murmured, “perhaps not.”

Silver shuddered out a breath, let the curiosity go--for now. “I think this way is better.”

The look Flint gave him was almost pitying. “You’re easily impressed, Silver.”

Silver laughed, although his voice shook. “Oh yes, captain? Are you going to show me better?”

Flint leaned in and stole a brutal kiss. “Yes,” he said. He let go of Silver and raised his hand to his mouth, licking a filthy stripe across his palm. His skin, as he returned his hand to Silver, has hot and wet and slippery smooth. 

Eyes falling shut, Silver was overwhelmed. He pushed into Flint’s stroking hand, the roll of his hips almost uncontrollable. He sucked in air in low hitching gasps, air filled with the smell of the jungle, the scent of rot and growth. It was too hot, sweat trickling down his back and gathering at the backs of his knees. He grabbed at Flint, holding him like an anchor. Flint leaned into his touch, as though it was too long since someone had touched him like this. Silver was swept away by it, lost in the moment. Then he opened his eyes. Flint was looking down at their joining, lips smug and pleased. The look of a man absolutely assured of himself. Fury rushed back into Silver like a fire engulfing a field. This would never do. If he was going to be lost to this, he was going to drag Flint down with him. 

It was easy, surprisingly so. He rubbed gently at the bulge in Flint’s pants, hot and hard beneath his hands. He slid a hand a round to the base of Flint’s spine, pulled them closer together. He tightened his breathing to little hitching moans, soft vulnerable exhalations he knew would push all of Flint’s buttons. He wrapped his leg around Flint’s hard waist, Flint’s hot broad hands catching his thigh, sliding smoothly down to his ass. Silver shivered and shoved his hips forward. The base of his peg thumped against Flint’s calf. Silver panted and tossed his head back, tilting to show off the lines of his neck to best advantage. He moaned softly, adding a hint of surprise to it, as though Flint had made him feel something he hadn’t expected. 

Flint was captivated, eyes drinking Silver in. His hands were slow, touches almost tender. He pressed an open-mouthed kiss to Silver’s throat, tongue flicking out to taste his pulse point. It wrenched a moan from Silver, a true one. Perhaps it was the veracity of that noise, or perhaps the way Silver immediately glanced up through his lashes to check his reaction that gave the game away. 

Flint snarled, his grip on Silver’s body suddenly turning bruising. Silvilver whined with it. “You little snake,” he hissed and kissed Silver, as though he was helpless not to. It was an attack, a battle of lips and tongues and nipping teeth. _Your snake_ , Silver thought, _yours_.

Flint stroked him with renewed vigor, breath snarled between them. His thumb slid over the head of Silver’s cock, smearing the fluid there. It was too much, too much. Flint’s weathered hands, the heat trapped between their bodies, the looming presence of the man above him. Silver snapped at Flint;s shoulder, biting deep to keep from crying out, His hips stuttered, his own rhythm falling way before Flint’s inexorable one. Pleasure pooled low at the base of his spine, coiled tight in his belly. Silver gasped, tried desperately to keep his breath. Too much, too quickly, Flint played him with expert control. With a twist of his wrist and a snarl of his lips, Flint brought Silver over. He shivered and gasped and came. 

Silver fought to keep from trembling as Flint pressed his forehead to Silver’s; their breaths syncopating, falling into rhythm. He pulled away, far enough to look into his face. “Look at you,” he said, voice dark with triumph. “You look ruined.”

It was true, Silver knew, but the same could be said of Flint. He was wild-eyed with lust, pupils blown and black, cheeks flushed and chest heaving. He looked like a man holding on to the last threads of his control. Silver found he liked that look on him.

He hummed low in his throat and pulled Flint tight against him. Flint’s breath hitched, caught in his chest. Silver pressed his hands to Flint’s back, urged him to move against him. Flint pressed against his hip and stared down at the first slow slide against the crease of Silver’s thigh. It was obvious what he was thinking about, and they were both thinking about it. Flint holding him down, pliant and used, and sliding into him like a hand into a glove… Silver groaned, surprised at how pleasing the thought was to him, and clutched Flint to him.

Flint grabbed at Silver like a drowning man at driftwood. “Fuck,” he snarled. His hands were punishing as he rutted against Silver’s hips. His pants slid on over-sensitive skin and Silver twitched with every thrust. Each one pushed him roughly back against the tree, more firmly into Flint’s hand. Flint was surrounding him, bruising hands and heaving shoulders and thrusting hips. Silver slid his hands beneath Flint’s shirt, brushing fingertips across stomach and spine. Flint’s breath was hot and raw and labored against Silver’s neck. He came in a muffled burst of heat against his leg, and the noise he made was almost pained, wounded and lost and vulnerable. Silver reveled in that sound, tucked it away to remember always. He had made Flint sound like that, he had. That sound belonged to him.

They slowly peeled apart, uncoupling almost reluctantly. Silver leaned back, letting the tree take the weight off his strained leg and the uncomfortable boot. Flint watched him with calculating eyes, then reached out to do up Silver’s wrecked clothes. Silver allowed the attention, knew the lingering touches for what they were. 

Silver tried to smooth back his hair. He knew he looked wild. Flint’s eyes on him were too much, too intimate; Silver longed for just a moment out from under his gaze to put himself back in order. “We should get back to the beach. We will have been missed. When Billy sent you to fetch me, I suppose he expected you to return with me.”

Flint smirked, altogether too smug. “One look at you and they'll all know what we've been up to.”

Silver frowned. “They’ll think you’ve been fucking me.” An intriguing idea on its own, but not particularly a reputation he particularly wanted among the crew. They counted on him to stand up to Flint and the thought of him bending over for the captain would not be a reassuring one. He needed to be seen as Flint’s equal, his partner.

Flint grinned. “Haven't I?” The words were rich and smug, and Silver longed to punch him in his smirking mouth. How was it that this man infuriated him so? Swung him from one pole of irritation to admiration, lust to loathing? It was untenable, it couldn’t stand. If he was going to feel these extremes, then so, goddamnit, was Flint.

“I don’t know, captain,” Silver said with what he knew to be his most irritating grin. “It could go either way. Maybe I was fucking you.”

The steel was back in Flint’s eyes, but he chuckled all the same. “Not with these bruises, you weren’t.” He slid a hand possessively down Silver’s exposed throat. Silver fought the urge to tip his head back. “Indeed,” Flint said. “It seems you came out the worse for our encounter.” There were marks on his neck, red purplish, sure to be deliciously felt tomorrow.

Silver said, “Then I should have bruised you up more.”

“Next time,” Flint said, “ you may bloody me as you see fit.” His eyes were hooded and hungry.

_Next time_ , Silver thought. He could work with next time. He inclined his head. "Come back to the beach with me."

Flint's eyes narrowed as he looked at Silver, as though he were torn between his desire to trust Silver and his own wary instincts. Finally, he nodded.

It was progress.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://tessykinswritesthings.tumblr.com)


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